


Shock Therapy

by S0lstice



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, As Cap would say: Language!, BAMF Tony Stark, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Electrocution, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, I have no idea how brains and memories work, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23655373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S0lstice/pseuds/S0lstice
Summary: When the boy became aware, he was already sitting up and awake. He was assaulted by sound, by taste, by colors and people and movement - too loud, too much. He jerked back from the painful onslaught and tried to grab his head, but his hands were tied down to the arms of the metal chair he was sitting in.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 126
Kudos: 535
Collections: IronDad Four Tags Challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for the Four Tags Challenge!  
> The tags we had to include were Hurt/Comfort, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Peter Parker, and Amnesia, with kidnapping optional. Of course I'm going to take that option. :D
> 
> (In case anyone is wondering, I'm going back to Die With the Sun after this!)
> 
> Big thanks to Blondsak and Coconutnightshade for beta reading!!

When the boy became aware, he was already sitting up and awake. He was assaulted by sound, by taste, by colors and people and movement - too loud, too much. He jerked back from the painful onslaught and tried to grab his head, but his hands were tied down to the arms of the metal chair he was sitting in.

"Peter!"

There was blood in his mouth. Pain cut into his side every time he breathed and he looked down at unfamiliar clothes - a blue plaid button-down and jeans. Under the open button-down was a white t-shirt, stained dark crimson on one side. 

"Pete. Hey, look at me, kid."

"You have no idea how happy it makes me that he was with you."

"Enjoy it while you can, asshole, you're sure as hell gonna regret it later."

There were two men on either side of the boy’s chair. He looked up at the one on his right and received a slow smile in return. 

"It definitely did something," the man said, eyes glinting with dark fascination before turning his grin to the other group of people in the space. 

There was a man in a chair just like the boy’s own several yards away. He had dark hair and a well-trimmed goatee. His hands were also tied down and a tall gray-haired, bearded man stood behind him.

He didn't recognize a single person in the room. 

"Peter," the man in the chair said, piercing brown eyes boring into his own. 

...Was _he_ Peter? The boy’s eyes grew wide and his heart rate gathered speed when it dawned on him that he didn't know. His gaze flew to the smiling man next to him then back to the others, breaths coming quick as he searched his mind for any piece of information about who he was or what was happening. He found nothing but an empty wasteland.

The gray-haired man outright laughed at his distress and plopped his hands onto the brown-eyed man's shoulders. "Can you guess which one that was, Tony? It’s one of my personal favorites." 

_Tony, his name is Tony._ The boy clung to that bit of knowledge like a lifeline, desperate to know... _something_. Anything.

“Kid? Peter?” Tony repeated, sharp eyes still locked on his own. “You gotta keep me in the loop, tell me what’s happening.”

_I must be Peter._

He - _Peter_ \- glanced quickly around the room, trying to center himself and get a better grasp of his surroundings. They were inside what looked like a barn, or what might have once been a barn. Both the floor and walls were made of rough wooden planks, with large sheets of metal covering sections of the walls where the wood had rotted away. Loops of chains hung on the wall next to long strips of leather that had likely been used as bridles and leads for the horses once housed there.

It appeared to be dark outside and there was a chill in the air. The interior was lit only by a few dusty old light bulbs that hung from a wooden beam running the length of the barn. 

“Looks like we finally found the key to shutting him up, at least,” the smiling man said, giving Peter’s shoulder a rough shove. 

A strange, unpleasant tingling sensation traveled from the back of his neck down his spine at the contact, lingering even after the man’s hand left him. He tried leaning away to relieve it but the feeling continued when he grew closer to the man on his other side. He shifted uncomfortably and tried leaning forward instead, scrunching his shoulders.

“Peter, _please_ kid, talk to me.” Tony’s voice drew his attention up again and he found it hard to look away from the concern in the unknown man’s eyes. “What’s happening?”

What’s happening? He was tied to a chair wearing clothes he’d never seen before, in an unfamiliar building full of people he didn’t recognize who were all staring at him like he was a lab experiment and they were all waiting for the results. 

Not to mention that he was hurting from injuries he didn’t even remember receiving. His head hurt, his cheek hurt - his side _especially_ hurt, a deep inescapable throbbing where he must have been cut or stabbed based on the amount of blood saturating his shirt. 

The smiling man grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back upright. This time he didn’t remove his hand despite Peter’s attempts to shake it off. 

“What did it do to him? Did it make it so he can’t talk?” Tony finally looked away from Peter to glare at the gray-haired man as he circled the chair to stand in the space between them.

“No, no,” the man said, holding his hands up as though it would absolve him of all guilt. “He can talk all he wants. Maybe he just doesn’t know what to say.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t know anything at all.” The smiling man snickered and jostled Peter’s shoulder like they were old friends. 

Peter stared hard at the ground, doing his best to hold his rapidly building anxiety at bay. He couldn’t afford to panic. He had to find a way to escape. He could figure everything else out when he was somewhere safer.

“Why am I here,” he said in a low voice, keeping his gaze locked on the splintery wooden floor. Laughter erupted around him and he stiffened, color rushing to his cheeks. He lifted his eyes to the man named Tony, the only one not laughing, the only one seemingly in the same predicament as he was. 

Tony’s facial expression was hard, closed off, but his eyes shone with worry and something close to heartbreak. “It’s okay,” he reassured softly with what Peter suspected was meant to be an encouraging nod. There was a dark bruise that curled around the man’s eye and spread to his cheek. His clothes, while expensive looking - black dress pants, a white button down, and a dark gray suit vest - were rumpled and scuffed with dirt.

“Why are you here? You’re here because of _him!”_ the gray-haired man said loudly, pointing straight at Tony. Tony’s nostrils flared and he shook his head once but then stopped himself, as though he didn’t want Peter to believe it but also couldn’t deny it. 

“What do you want?” Peter spoke more surely and looked directly at the gray-haired man for the first time. He might as well start learning what he could, as it was apparently clear to them already that he had no idea what was going on.

The man strolled toward him and then leaned down into Peter’s space. His eyes were a dull slate blue, and when he smiled, Peter saw yellowed teeth. “I want you to keep doing exactly what you’re doing.” He tapped Peter under the chin before he could yank his head out of range, and heat rushed to his cheeks again. 

“Hughes,” Tony said sharply. The gray-haired man hummed and straightened, but continued to look Peter over with a calculating eye. Once more Peter felt like a lab experiment and had to make a conscious effort not to avert his eyes.

“How long is that going to last? Is it permanent?” At Tony’s question, the man spun around and clasped his hands tightly behind him.

“You’re really going to keep pretending you don’t know?”

“I’m not _pretending_ , dickhead,” Tony countered as Hughes approached him. “My father did all that behind the scenes, I didn’t even know it happened until he was gone.” 

“And you expect me to believe that you didn’t continue his research and experimentation after that?”

“I’m not really sure what to expect from you, if I’m honest.” Despite being the one tied to a chair, there was a confidence to Tony’s body language and speech that drew more of an impression than the man standing over him. “Prime example, I wouldn’t expect someone to think that brown corduroy would still be in fashion, but here you are.”

The corner of Peter’s mouth curled upward in an involuntary smile, but it faded when Hughes turned to face him. 

“Time for the next test, I think.”

Tony’s face immediately fell. “Okay, stop. Stop, you did him, let’s take turns. Me next.”

The tingling sensation in the back of Peter’s neck intensified and not a second later he sensed yet another presence at his back. A large hand reached forward and grabbed his jaw from behind, yanking his head back until he was staring at the ceiling. He sucked in a breath and gripped the arms of the chair as Hughes and another man moved nearby. He heard the muted rattling of a pill bottle. 

“I’ll take it,” Tony quickly offered again. “Come on, I’m used to popping pills. I’m a great subject.”

They _must_ know each other. Beyond knowing his name, this man was being too protective of him to be just another stranger who happened to be caught in the same plight as he was. Peter’s heart pulled toward him, longing to see the concern in his eyes again - a small measure of comfort that even if Peter didn’t know Tony, Tony seemed to know Peter.

Then Hughes appeared in his field of vision with a round white pill. 

“Anyone like to take a guess as to what this one’s going to do before we find out together?” He paused with the pill hovering over Peter’s mouth and glanced about the room. “Tony?”

“Is that the one that makes you puke your guts out?” the smiling man responded excitedly. Peter’s stomach curdled and he gripped the arms of the chair a little tighter. “Or the one that makes you see shit that’s not there?”

Hughes looked back down at Peter and winked. “Let’s see. Say ‘ah.’”

Peter clenched his teeth and pressed his lips tightly together. Hughes waited as the hand holding Peter’s head back dug its fingers into his jaw to try and pry it open, but Peter just ground his teeth even more tightly together. Finally Hughes huffed and dropped his hand as though Peter was a fussy toddler refusing his mashed peas. 

“He doesn’t remember the rules,” the smiling man said with gleeful anticipation.

“Ah, of course,” Hughes amended, stepping back. “My apologies. Show him again.”

The man behind Peter let go of his head and instead latched onto his shoulders, holding him against the back of the chair. Peter tensed as the smiling man moved forward, but to his surprise and dismay, he went toward Tony instead. 

Tony watched him approach with a boldness in his eyes that left Peter both awed and envious. The smiling man reared back and punched him across the face and Peter flinched at the sound of knuckles against his cheekbone. 

“Wait!” Peter called as the smiling man struck Tony again, snapping his head to the side. “Stop!”

The smiling man paid him no mind. He continued to rain down hits, landing several more to Tony’s face before punching him hard in the gut. 

“Stop hurting him!” Peter cried as Tony doubled over in his chair. “I’ll take the stupid pill, okay?”

Tony shook his head, coughing a couple times before straightening again. “Don’t, kid. I’m fine. This guy hits like my grandma.” He spit blood onto the wooden floorboards next to him. “And she’s dead.”

If Peter’s arms were free he would have smacked a hand to his forehead in disbelief. _“Tony!”_

Tony’s eyes immediately darted to his own as though he was surprised to hear his own name, but the moment was broken when the smiling man growled and slammed a fist into Tony’s stomach again. 

Peter pulled forward against whoever was holding his shoulders back and twisted his wrists in the ropes holding them down. “Stop!”

“Stay there, Peter!” Tony ordered sharply. An odd thing to say to someone who was tied to a chair. “This is fine, I’m fine.” 

Another hit, this time to the side of his face again. He was clearly doing his best to appear unbothered, but his arms jerked and his hands clenched into fists every time a blow landed.

Peter’s heart was pounding so loudly he could hear it pulsing in his ears as the drive to put an end to the beating grew ever more forceful within him. Whoever this Tony man was, he surely didn’t deserve this kind of violence, especially not for Peter’s sake or because of something that Peter had done. 

Another hit to the stomach sent Tony bending forward again and something inside Peter snapped. He surged forward, ripping his shoulders free and yanking on his wrists. Instead of feeling the ropes cut into his skin, instead of feeling the unyielding resistance he had expected, the tough fibers tore apart like string and he stumbled forward out of the chair. 

The room fell silent. Peter, standing suddenly completely free, stared down at his hands in utter shock. His gaze flew up to find everyone staring at him with equal looks of stunned disbelief on their faces. All except Tony, who hung his head briefly at the revelation and then met Peter’s eyes with a mix of resignation and something else Peter couldn’t quite place. 

_“Fuck,”_ the smiling man breathed.

Silence broken, the room erupted into chaos. Peter dashed toward Tony first, grabbing the smiling man by the front of the shirt and sending his fist flying into his jaw. There was an audible crack as the joint broke and the man flew back several feet, howling and grabbing his face. 

Peter slapped a hand over his mouth, appalled at his own strength. 

“Peter!” 

Simultaneously with Tony’s shout, he felt that same warning prickle go down his spine and heard a loud pop behind him. He almost leapt away but something kept him there, a subconscious instinct that told him that if he moved, something was going to hit Tony instead. 

Sure enough, something sharp hit the back of his right thigh and then electricity crackled up and down his leg. He cried out and dropped to one knee, grabbing onto the arm of Tony’s chair for support as his muscles seized. 

The wave of electricity passed. He heard more movement behind him but he focused on Tony, digging his fingers under the tight ropes on one of his wrists and tearing them off. 

Tony was yelling for him to run but he reached to free the man’s other hand, the notion of leaving him behind not even entering his mind. His fingers were inches away when there was another pop and a second spike of pain lodged itself into the back of his shoulder. Once again electricity zapped through him, this time down his back and into his chest. He jerked violently but tried to stay upright, ready to rip the ropes off Tony’s wrist the second he had control over his body again. But this time the current didn’t stop and after a few seconds too long, Peter lost his battle and dropped into a quaking heap at Tony’s feet.

A chorus of shouts flew over his head - the men ordering Peter not to move, ordering Tony to stop trying to untie his other hand, Tony yelling at them to end the still-flowing current crackling through Peter’s body. Peter could do little more than shake on the ground, but he saw taser wires leading from his shoulder to the gun in one of the men’s hands and he tried to reach for them in the hopes of yanking them out. 

Then he heard above the other shouts, a vicious, _“Stop moving or he dies!”_

He froze upon seeing Hughes behind Tony with a knife to his neck, already cutting into his skin enough to make him bleed. Tony was frozen as well, hand hovering in the air over the _almost_ unknotted ropes. Finally the taser turned off and Peter went limp with a relieved moan.

Once more there was near silence, the only sounds in the old barn being heavy breathing and panting. 

“Now,” Hughes started, beads of sweat on his forehead and hair out of place. “Child, you move a single muscle and I will slit his throat.”

Peter just stared with wide eyes, too scared to even nod his understanding. 

“Hand back down, Tony. Jacobs, tie it again.” 

A large, muscular man with short, light brown hair that Peter hadn’t seen yet, likely the one that had been holding his head back earlier, moved to Tony’s side with new rope and set to tying his free hand down again. Tony just stared down at Peter, a whole new level of trepidation in his chestnut eyes. Something told Peter it had less to do with the knife at his throat and everything to do with the fact that these men now knew that Peter was… what _was_ he?

A deep, pained groan echoed through the barn, then quickly turned into furious, unintelligible garbling. Footsteps thundered toward Peter and his anxiety surged again seconds before a pair of hands latched onto his shirt. He was dragged several feet away from Tony and then dropped onto his back. The taser barbs -still lodged in his shoulder- dug even deeper into his flesh, and then a boot stomped directly onto the stab wound in his side. The wound, which had been pushed to the back of his mind amid the flurry of activity, erupted in a burst of agony. A ragged scream burst out of his throat and he frantically grabbed onto the boot as it ground into him. 

“-ou f-ck’n bish!” 

It was the smiling man, only he wasn’t smiling anymore. The lower half of one side of his face was horribly swollen, the skin a deep red, and his jaw was grotesquely uneven. Blood dripped like drool out of the corner of his mouth. 

He leaned his entire weight onto his foot and Peter grit his teeth, tightening his grip on the boot to try and ease the pressure without outright pushing it off. 

“Get off of him!” Tony shouted nearby. 

“Step away from him for a moment,” Hughes said almost simultaneously. “Leave him on the floor.”

The man gave one final push of his weight and then stepped back and Peter gasped at the relief from pain. He held both hands over the wound, not wanting to press down but also more than a little disturbed by the amount of warm, wet blood under his fingers. 

“Well this changes things,” Jacobs said where he stood next to Tony. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Everyone turned their eyes to Peter again and, in an attempt to squash the urge to shrink under the scrutiny, he glared back with as much boldness as he could muster. Like Tony.

“Give me a moment to think,” Hughes murmured. Tony shifted slightly and Peter saw another trickle of blood slip out from under the knife. The no-longer-smiling man, the _frowning_ man, now, paced agitatedly a few yards from Peter, cupping his broken jaw with one hand.

Finally Hughes spoke, voice low with morbid curiosity. “What are you, boy?” 

Again Peter scoured his mind… and again came up frighteningly empty. “I don’t know.” 

“He’s a kid who ate his Wheaties,” Tony supplied. “That’s all. You guys are just shit at tying knots.”

Hughes considered the situation a moment longer before nodding at Jacobs. “Put him back in the chair. And remember, child, you make a single wrong move and this knife is going through his neck. And you-” he nodded this time to the frowning man “-get the chains from that wall.”

“You really think those’re gonna hold him?” The fourth man, the final lackey who had before stood silently to the left of Peter’s chair, tipped his head toward the chains. His voice was gravelly, the kind of low and rough quality that only years of heavy smoking could cause. “He might be, like… a super soldier or something.”

“A fucking baby super soldier, maybe,” Jacobs said as he stooped to take a handful of Peter’s shirt. He lifted him quite easily to his feet and then ripped the taser barbs from Peter’s shoulder and thigh without giving him any warning. Peter bit back a pained grunt and let the man push him back down into his chair. 

The frowning man was already there, eyes so dark with hatred that Peter nearly asked for one of the other men to handle the chains instead. He yanked Peter’s hands behind his back this time and began a process that ended up taking almost a full minute. Partway through, he paused to babble something to the others, something that Peter could not for the life of him decipher. There must have been a good amount of hand gesturing and pointing as well, because he could see everyone else’s eyes follow whatever was happening behind him. 

When whatever message the man was trying to get across became clear - at least to all the others - Jacobs’ eyebrows rose, Tony paled, and Hughes nodded.

“Go ahead and get them,” he said. “I really don’t want to have to stand here with this knife forever.”

“You’re joking,” Tony murmured, then a bit louder, “You’re _joking._ The chains are going to be enough, believe me, you don’t need to do that. He’s not going to move again. Right, Pete?”

The urgency in both his tone and his eyes was more than a little frightening and Peter nodded rapidly in return.

They were ignored. The smoker slipped out through a side door and the frowning man went back to his work.

He didn’t just chain Peter’s hands together, he wove it up his arms, threading it through the metal bars of the chair behind Peter’s back, then criss-crossed it over his chest, then over each of his shoulders. Somehow there was still enough left over for him to secure Peter’s ankles to the legs of the chair as well. 

The chains were all tightened and locked into place by three separate padlocks.

“Wow. I feel like this might be overkill,” Peter said quietly, glancing down at himself. While nervous and incredibly uncomfortable, he kept in mind how easily he had torn through the ropes. He felt he might be able to break out of these chains if given the opportunity as well. He didn’t know for sure - he had very little information about how much he could apparently do… but the ropes had just been so _easy_.

The frowning man appeared in front of him again and Peter’s heart sank when he saw that the malice in his eyes hadn’t abated in the least. If anything, it had grown.

Peter swallowed, eyes flickering unconsciously to a still-pale Tony and then back. “I’m uh- I’m sorry about-”

He saw the blow coming and tried to lean out of the way but the chains held him fast and he took the hit square on the jaw. Pain rocketed through his head as it flew to the side.

_“Hey!”_ Tony snapped. “He didn’t know he could hit that hard! If you hadn’t erased his memory he would have held back.”

Peter stared at the wall for a few seconds, then dropped his eyes to the floor in guilt. He tasted blood in his mouth once more.

The barn door creaked and he looked up to see the smoker re-enter, a long coil of jumper cables held loosely at his side. An icy sensation spread over Peter’s skin at the sight, too cold and too deep to have been caused by the waft of night air that followed the man in. 

“Wha-... wait-” Peter stammered, and then gasped when his chair was unexpectedly yanked a few feet to the side, closer to a circuit breaker panel on the wall. 

“He’s not going to move,” Tony objected, tone suddenly so casual that it bordered on uncaring - an unsettling and unexpected change that made Peter’s insides shrivel in confusion. “You’re just going to raise your electricity bill.”

“It’s just a _precaution_ ,” Hughes replied in a disgustingly patronizing voice. “I don’t want to take any chances with the baby super soldier before we figure out what to do with him.”

“The tasers worked pretty good,” Jacobs added as he fiddled with several of the cords leading out from the panel. “This is just an amplified version.”

Peter’s gaze went to Tony yet again, as though the essentially-still-unknown man could offer him any help, but Tony wasn’t even looking at him. His expression had shut down once more, eyes dark as they followed Jacobs and the frowning man, who attached the cables to Peter’s chair, one clip on either side of his body.

Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest, and despite the fact that he was already breathing far too quickly, he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. Everything was happening too fast and his effort to hold his panic at bay was beginning to crumble. He hadn’t even been aware for more than a half an hour, _maybe_ , and he was being tortured by a group of unknown people for entirely unknown reasons. To top it all off, he didn’t just not know who he was, he didn’t even know _what_ he was. 

_Just a precaution. Just a precaution._ They weren’t going to do it unless he tried to escape again, right?

He watched with round eyes as the frowning man attached the other end of the cables to the base of the circuit panel, first one and then, to Peter’s horror, the other as well. He slammed his eyes shut and stiffened in expectation, but nothing happened. A few seconds of silence passed and he tentatively peeled his eyes open. 

The frowning man was staring him dead in the eye, blood still dribbling from his lips, his thumb resting on one of the breaker switches. The unbroken side of his mouth quirked upward in a half smile and then he flipped the switch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun times ahead!

Like a crack of lightning, white hot pain arced through Peter’s entire body. Every single muscle contracted impossibly taut and he jerked helplessly against the chains. The pain was all-consuming, ripping all thought and concept of time from him like they had never existed in the first place. 

After what felt like an entire lifetime, it stopped. His head immediately fell back and his lungs dragged in a deep, gasping breath, as though he had been held underwater for too long and it was the only chance at oxygen they were going to get. Tony was yelling profanities but Peter barely registered his voice; it was all he could do to heave in air and stare at the ceiling as his muscles twitched in aftershocks. 

His brain tried to rewire itself, collecting the scattered pieces of his mind to try and form coherent thoughts again. He was only part way back to sanity when his fight or flight instinct kicked in and he started yanking wildly against what was holding him down, twisting and pulling as hard as he could in an attempt to escape.

Distantly he heard, “Oh, perfect test.” 

Unadulterated dread overwhelmed him and he opened his mouth to plead but it was too late - the switch was flipped and once more high voltage electricity was splitting him apart. His body seized up tight, halting all movement except the involuntary and agonizing convulsions that rattled his bones and tortured his already-burning muscles. 

Any progress his brain had made toward rational functionality was shattered once more. Only this time there was an almost instantaneous eruption in his mind, an onslaught of color, sounds, voices, faces, and images like when he had first become aware not long ago, only it was every face he’d ever seen. Every voice he’d ever heard, racing forward to pack themselves back into his memory in the span of a split second.

_Ironman._

_Spider-Man._

_Tony, May, Ned, MJ, Happy. Midtown High. Avengers compound, Germany, the Vulture._

_Mr. Stark. A café in upstate New York. Men waiting for them in the parking lot. Fighting back, a gun at Tony’s head, a knife slicing into his side._

It began to grow fuzzy.

_Hughes… Hughes’ family… Stark Industries... prisoners of war… pills…?_

Then his vision whited out and the crackle of electricity surging through him was cut off. He instantly slumped in exhaustion and dropped his head, panting heavily and reeling from the overwhelming pain and barrage of memories. The air around him smelled of burnt fabric and he could feel the overheated metal of the chair and chains through his clothes. 

“-what you’re doing! You think my dad was being cruel to allow some goddamn _minor_ drug tests on P.O.W.’s, while you stand here torturing a fucking sixteen year old! What happened to your cousin was an accident! To take it out on _me_ isn’t even deserved, but to do this shit to a kid who wasn’t even born yet is so far beyond cruel it’s a fucking joke!”

“ _Relax_ , Tony.” Hughes’ voice drifted somewhere between Peter and Tony. “Firstly, this is much bigger than just you and me now. Secondly, he is clearly not just a ‘kid.’ How many volts would you say that was, Jacobs?”

“At least double what it would take to kill a grown man. He’s not even a grown man and he took two of those shocks back to back and is still breathing. So, yeah. Not just a fucking kid.”

“Of course we wouldn’t want to risk stopping his heart.” Hughes’ voice drew closer and then his scuffed wing-tipped shoes entered Peter’s vision, standing directly in front of his chair. “But I’ll leave you in charge of that switch, Ramsey. Feel free to flip it if he so much as squirms.” The frowning man grunted in assent as Hughes put a hand under Peter’s chin and lifted his head. “And you, child. I trust you’ll be more than happy to stay perfectly still now, won’t you?”

Instead of meeting their captor’s eyes, Peter looked straight past him to his mentor. When he locked eyes with Tony now, he saw all the emotion he had missed before. He saw the vulnerability beneath the hard lines of his face. He saw the muscles in his jaw move the way they only did when he was feeling especially helpless, when he was watching something terrible unfold, something he feared he would never be able to purge from his mind again. He saw the way Tony’s eyebrows quirked inward and knew the man was piling layers and layers of guilt and blame upon himself.

This was the man who had seen potential in him, sought him out, designed and built a suit for him that was outfitted with so many safety features it was a wonder he was allowed to jump off buildings at all. 

The man who had kept him at arm’s length for months, pretended to be unavailable yet appeared within mere minutes when Peter’s life was in danger. Pretended to be too busy to pay attention to him yet still somehow knew he had quit band practice, knew about the churro lady, knew about things that Peter had only shared with Happy’s unresponsive voicemail. 

The man who had started taking his calls after Peter’s incident with the plane, who had casually opened an invitation to work in his personal lab on a regular basis. Who had slowly but surely allowed Peter into his personal life until teasing and laughter came easily and spontaneous movie nights were commonplace. Until they had a texting routine and sign-off traditions unique to only them and filled with inside jokes.

The man who had driven Peter an hour and fifteen minutes that afternoon just to show him his favorite café, treat him to bagels and coffee, and prove to him that Rhodey had carved his name into one of the restroom stalls. 

The man he had looked up to since he was child, who showed him what it meant to be a hero.

Hughes and these other men had nearly taken that relationship away from them. They _had_ taken it away from them, they had taken _every_ relationship in Peter’s life away from him and the possibility of those memories and experiences being lost forever was something he couldn’t even begin to fathom... not without a dark chasm opening deep within him and threatening to drag him in.

If for no other reason than that, Peter was grateful that he had unintentionally exposed his powers, even if he was in more danger now than he had been before. He was grateful that he had been caught again, he was glad he had broken Ramsey’s jaw and made him angry enough to shock Peter unprovoked. 

Hughes’ hand tightened around Peter’s chin and drew his head up farther, forcing him to break eye contact with Tony. “I expect an answer,” he said, lips twitching as though barely holding back a smug smile.

Peter struggled to reorient himself back in the present. His mind moved slowly and unsteadily, caught up in memories that he was now desperate to hold onto and distracted by the residual tremors and spikes of pain that shot through his muscles at random.

“I wasn’t-” _paying attention,_ he almost said, but cut himself off before he could finish the snarky remark. “I can’t-... what did you-”

“What I _said_ was that you’ll be more than happy to stay perfectly still, won’t you?”

Peter’s gaze flickered quickly to Tony and then back. “As long as you stay away from Mr. Stark.”

Hughes’ eyebrows rose slowly in fascination. “ _Oh?_ Back to ‘Mr. Stark’ now, are you?” 

Peter could only blink in confusion as Hughes searched his face, thoughts stumbling over each other in an attempt to unravel the meaning behind the man’s reaction.

“I think you undid our work, Ramsey,” Hughes said finally, and Peter’s heart dropped in sudden understanding. He stole another glance at Tony and found the man still as a statue, staring wide-eyed at him with a unique blend of hope and trepidation.

“Electrical shock. Fascinating. I wonder if your father tested for that, Tony.” Hughes’ gaze darkened and he pushed Peter’s head away. “I wonder if he subjected those men to the electric chair and found the same results that we just have. But I suppose that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m putting my business with you on hold until we get our baby super soldier sorted out.”

“Yeah, speaking of, you remember that guy I was talking about a couple months ago, the one who’s always going back and forth to Romania?” Jacobs spoke up. He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it up. “I still got his number.”

“I don’t want to fuck with that guy, man,” the smoker said. “He was into some shit. I don’t want nothin’ to do with him.”

“So stay out of it. I’m not missing this chance, though.” Jacobs turned to Hughes and pointed to his phone. _“This guy,_ Hughes, he’ll fucking _buy_ this kid.”

Peter tensed, heart thumping heavily a few extra beats and eyes widening ever so slightly. He instinctively wanted to work at the chains wrapped around his arms but he resisted, turning his head to see Ramsey still watching him like a hawk, thumb resting threateningly on the circuit breaker switch. 

He couldn’t take another shock. The first two had sapped almost all of his energy and he feared that even one more would leave him unconscious or even kill him. As it was, his entire body was weak and trembling, muscles aching so deeply and thoroughly that he could no longer differentiate the stabbing pain in his side from that of the rest of his body.

“Buy him?” Hughes crossed his arms in thought. “What kind of business is this man in?”

“He’s a fence,” Jacobs replied, eyes lit with excitement. “Well he does a lot of shit, but mostly he’s a middle man for this outfit that takes freaks like this kid. I don’t know what they do with them, some real shady shit probably, but that’s not our problem.”

Peter swallowed and stared straight ahead at a piece of lint on Hughes’ corduroy jacket, wishing the man would move so he could see his mentor again. The fact that they were speaking so openly about their plans meant that they weren’t planning on letting Tony live. Peter had already suspected that from the beginning, but now there was little doubt. 

“How’s he plan to get the kid to fuckin’ Romania?” The smoker stepped forward, waving a hand toward Peter. “The second he leaves that chair he’s gonna get away.” 

“Maybe not, we don’t know what he can and can’t do.” Jacobs eyed Peter like he was a dog on a leash. “But whatever, man, that’s not our problem either. This guy knows what he’s doing, he’s transported enhanced people before just fine.”

“We might be able to help with that,” Hughes said casually, finally stepping away. Peter tried to smother his growing distress before he met Tony’s eyes but his efforts were forgotten when he saw the intensity of the scowl the man was leveling at their captors. His dark eyebrows were lowered, mouth set in a deep frown and eyes more piercing and dangerous than Peter had ever seen them. 

“Some of the pills we have were designed to knock out super soldiers,” Hughes continued. “Actual, Steve Rogers level super soldiers. I don’t know if they were ever able to be tested but in theory they would knock a super soldier unconscious within minutes and keep him out for at least twenty four hours.”

Again Peter had to make a conscious effort to stay still as alarm rushed through him and sent a crawling sensation over his skin. The pressure in his chest increased and he could swear the chains were squeezing tighter and tighter around him. 

Then suddenly Tony’s scowl was fixed on him but it had changed from fury to passionate determination, and he didn’t need to speak a word for Peter to get his message loud and clear:

_That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it._

Peter just pulled his eyebrows together and chewed on the inside of his cheek. He appreciated the sentiment and tried to convince himself that it was possible, but their chances were looking more and more grim as the minutes passed. Then Tony’s eyes darted down and Peter followed his gaze to see that the man’s wrists were both bloody. He had been pulling -slowly and surreptitiously- so hard that his skin was being scraped beyond raw, but one of his hands looked like it could squeeze about a third of the way out. His fingers were a deep red, bordering on purple from lack of circulation.

“What if that’s too much for him?” the smoker said. “It could kill him, he’s only half the size of an actual super soldier.” The men stood in thoughtful silence for a moment as though they were considering their next meal, not hashing out the details of drugging and selling a teenager. 

“Then we’ll start with half, see how he does with it, and give him the other half if we need to,” Hughes decided, then walked briskly past Peter’s chair and out of his sight. “We’ll call your man, Jacobs, but help me with this first. I want to wipe his memory one more time before we put him out.”

Panic raced through Peter’s chest like wildfire as Jacobs rounded on him, not even giving him a moment to think before grabbing his jaw and shoving his head back again. He tried to stifle the whimper that worked its way out of him when the man’s fingers dug painfully into his cheeks to try and force his mouth open. Once more Peter clenched his teeth together as tightly as he could, but he was significantly weaker than he had been the first time around and Jacobs was being significantly more aggressive. 

He heard the rattle of a pill bottle somewhere behind him again and breathed fast through his nose, scrunching his eyes shut to focus on keeping his mouth closed as long as he could. They immediately snapped back open, however, when Jacobs pinched his nose and his air supply was cut off. 

The smoker appeared next to him and grabbed a handful of his hair to help hold his head still. Then Hughes appeared on his other side, this time holding an oblong blue pill. Peter’s lungs burned and strained, desperate to drag air in. He closed his eyes again to try and reach the calm state of mind he would need to hold his breath for an extended period, but he was too far gone in his panic and before long he was squirming and struggling.

When gray spots bloomed in the periphery of his vision and he began to grow lightheaded, he knew he was moments away from passing out.

He took one quick gasp, hoping to close his mouth again before Hughes got any closer, but with surprising speed, Jacobs let go of Peter’s nose and shoved two big fingers between his teeth before he was able to clench them together again. He bit down on the fingers as hard as he could and the man yelled, but then Hughes’ fingers slipped in as well and Peter felt the pill hit the back of his tongue. He tried to spit it out but Jacobs pulled his fingers out and forced Peter’s jaw shut again, holding a hand firmly over his mouth to keep it closed. Peter quickly pushed the pill against the roof of his mouth with his tongue to keep it from tumbling down his throat but still the bitter chemicals began to dissolve and a rush of pure terror brought tears to his eyes. 

He couldn’t lose those memories again. He couldn’t go back to being a blank slate and then wake up somewhere in Romania, mentally defenseless. Not knowing who he was, what he was, or where he came from. Not knowing that he had a family and people who loved him and cared about him. Knowing nothing but what his new captors chose to tell him.

His tears were one blink away from spilling down his cheeks when the back of a metal chair swung into the side of Jacobs’ head with a startlingly loud crack. The blow knocked the man off to the side and in his place stood Tony, hands bloody and eyes sharp with fury. He dropped the chair with a clatter and snatched the smoker by the shirt, sending a fast punch directly into his nose. The grip on Peter’s hair disappeared and he immediately spit the remainder of the pill onto the floorboards. The sounds of fighting continued around him and he heard a strangled yelp from Hughes, but he just continued to cough and spit some more to try and rid his mouth and throat of the lingering chemicals. 

The fighting couldn’t have lasted longer than ten seconds when it suddenly went quiet.

“Ramsey, _don’t._ ”

Peter lifted his head at Tony’s tremulous voice. His mentor was only a few feet away, facing Ramsey with an arm outstretched in front of Peter as though to shield him from view. Hughes, Jacobs, and the smoker were all sprawled on the ground, motionless. Ramsey was still frozen at his spot by the circuit breaker panel but Peter only had to take one look into his panicked eyes to know he was about to bolt. And use Peter as a distraction.

_“Don’t,”_ Tony repeated, his tone changing quickly from a threat to a plea. “Don’t-!”

The man’s thumb moved, there was a loud snap from the switch, and then lightning surged through Peter once more and his entire world was devoured by agonizing, stabbing pain. His eyes slammed closed as forceful convulsions overtook him and the light bulbs overhead buzzed and flickered, battling with Peter for life. The only thing preventing him from screaming was the unmercifully tight grip it had on his chest, not even allowing him to draw air into his lungs.

A shout erupted nearby, followed by the echoing crack of a gun firing, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to register it. His very thoughts were rattling, shooting in too many directions at once and threatening to splinter apart altogether. 

Bright stars sparked behind his eyelids and it occurred to him that he might be seconds away from dying. For too long it rippled and crackled through his already damaged body, so excruciating that he was sure it was tearing his muscles apart fiber by fiber. 

Then suddenly it stopped. It stopped, and he instantly dissolved into a heaving, panting, sobbing wreck. The sickening smell of singed cotton and burning skin overwhelmed him, and despite being free from the electrical current, he couldn’t stop shaking. Any last vestiges of bravery he might have been clinging to had been dragged out of him and shattered. He couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t be strong.

The sound of scuffling at the far end of the barn drifted into his awareness, the slam of bodies hitting the wall and grappling. 

Tony. 

Worry slid slowly through his mind and he tried to move, instinctively wanting to go help him, but other than the involuntary shuddering, he was completely immobile. 

Then a second gunshot sounded and his worry skyrocketed into alarm. He had forgotten that there was a gun somewhere. They’d been threatened with it in the parking lot, but Peter hadn’t seen it since. Ramsey might have been the last one to have it.

After the shot, the barn went quiet.

“Mr. Stark?” he tried to call, but his voice was hoarse and didn’t come out as much more than a mumble. He wanted to look for him, but could barely lift his head. “Mr. Stark!” he tried again, with little success.

Footsteps raced toward him and then Tony appeared, skidding to his knees in front of him and stuffing a handgun into the back of his waistband. He was out of breath but immediately took Peter’s head in both of his hands, looking into his eyes with frantic concern. 

“It's okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” The reassurances rushed out of the older man as though he weren’t even aware of them, and the pure empathy and worry on his bruised face made a knot form in Peter’s throat. “Two seconds and I’ll have you out, okay bud?”

Peter just nodded and Tony gave his cheek the lightest of pats before sliding behind him. He must have already found the keys, because the padlocks clicked open one by one and he began to unwind the chains from around Peter’s arms. 

Each link that fell away was one more small step toward freedom, and the closer Peter got to it the more desperate for it he became. His bottom lip began to wobble at the prospect of finally being safe and he bit down on it to try and keep it still and hold himself together. 

He didn’t realize that the chains from his chest and shoulders were gone until he felt himself leaning forward, too weak to hold himself upright. But before it even occurred to him that he was about to fall out of his chair, Tony appeared in front of him once more and he slumped straight into his mentor instead.

Instantly he was wrapped in a strong, warm, protective hug. He opened his mouth - to say what, he didn’t know - but all that came out was a choked-off sob. Then another. Then tears were slipping from his eyes as all the confusion, fear, and helplessness of the last hour came rushing to the surface and he broke down against Tony’s shoulder. 

“You’re okay,” Tony murmured, one hand coming up to clutch the back of Peter’s head while the other tightened around his back. “You’re okay now, kiddo.”

For almost a full minute, Tony’s unyielding embrace was the only thing holding him together. His gentle reassurances were constant in Peter’s ear and Peter longed to hold onto him as well but his limbs were heavy, weighed down with burning pain. 

“Ho-ow did you get o-out?” he finally forced out, struggling to work himself down to a calmer state. 

Tony’s arms shifted around him, squeezing just a little tighter. Peter knew the older man needed the contact just as much as he did. “Like I said, they’re shit at tying knots."

Peter suspected there was more to it than that, but Tony spoke again before he could question him. "You ready to get out of here? I’m starting to think this crowd is bad news.” 

Peter hummed in immediate assent and Tony gave him one final squeeze before sliding a hand under Peter’s legs. He didn’t bother asking whether Peter would be able to stand, he just staggered to his feet, lifting Peter up with him. 

The first thing Peter noticed from his new vantage point was the large, bright red blood stain on Tony’s upper arm sleeve. 

“Your arm!” He exclaimed, blinking quickly to clear his vision. “Were you shot?”

“Mm hm.” Tony’s answer came out as a grunt and he didn’t elaborate, his face contorted in pain as he hefted Peter into a better position. Worry and guilt made Peter’s heart clench but he stayed quiet, knowing this was likely the only way to get them both out.

Hughes remained unconscious in an ungraceful heap on the floor. Jacobs was sprawled face down next to him, the smoker a few yards away. 

Ramsey’s body lay at the other end of the barn, a disturbingly large pool of blood spreading outward from his head. 

Chill night air enveloped them when Tony pushed through the door and goosebumps prickled over Peter’s skin. Dark wilderness surrounded them. They made for one of the old cars parked nearby, a rusted, discolored thing with missing hubcaps.

Tony made a good effort of trying to get one of the back doors open, but he was clearly scraping the bottom of his energy reserves. Every time he fumbled for the handle he had to readjust his grip so as to not lose Peter, who - despite desperately wanting to help - could barely move. 

After a few failed attempts, Tony gave up. He turned and planted his back against it, then slid to the ground with a groan, Peter in his lap. 

“Help is coming,” he said between heavy breaths, eyes closed and head tilted back to rest against the car door. “Grabbed my watch inside.”

Peter watched the man’s face in wonder, illuminated by the pale glow of the half-moon overhead and what light filtered out from the barn. A brief gust of wind carried the scent of bark and dry soil past them. Peter shivered and, with a wince, dragged his aching arms to his chest. Burn marks circles his wrists and forearms where the chains had rested against his bare skin. 

“I’m so sorry.” Tony released a heavy sigh after a few more seconds of silence, and Peter frowned. “God, kid. I’m so sorry.” 

“Mr. Stark, you just saved us.” 

“I don’t even know where to start,” the older man continued, as though Peter hadn’t spoken. He opened his eyes and stared up at the stars, brow furrowed. “This never should have happened.”

“Yeah,” Peter said dumbly, wishing his still-occasionally-misfiring mind would sort itself out more quickly. “It’s not your fault, though. It’s their fault, they’re bad guys.”

Tony’s eyes dropped to Peter’s face with a sad smile, but he didn’t reply. 

“What’s going to happen? What if they tell people about me? They know what I look like… and my name?” 

“That info’s going nowhere but inside their own heads, and I’m going to make sure their heads go somewhere they won’t be able to see another person, much less share info with them.”

Peter’s mouth opened silently. 

“Still attached to their bodies,” Tony quickly amended. “Their heads will still be attached. Maybe. Probably.”

“Ah,” Peter said with a small laugh. He didn’t mention Ramsey. “What about the Romanian guy? And those people… at that place? We have to do something.”

“One thing at a time, squirt. Our first mission is to wait here for Happy and the cavalry and the big box of band-aids they better be bringing with them.”

“But we have to help those people.”

Tony shifted positions with a grimace, pulling one of his arms out from under Peter and resting it on top of his knees instead. “Don’t worry, we will. Someone will. I’ll sic Fury on them, he’ll have a field day.”

Peter’s eyes zeroed in on Tony’s hand. His skin was scraped and bleeding, his fingers curled limply. Thumb joint discolored, swollen, unnaturally positioned. “Is that broken Mr. Stark? Oh my God, did you break your thumb? To get out, like the movies?”

Tony glanced down at the appendage with far less concern than Peter felt was warranted. “Yeah. Hurts a lot more than the guys in the movies let on, though.”

“Oh. Wow.” Once again, he couldn’t seem to organize his thoughts quickly enough to form the words he wanted.

“Small price to pay, though.” Tony tipped his head back against the car door once more. “Real small.”

Warmth blossomed in Peter’s chest for a moment but then his eyes strayed unwillingly to the barn door, ajar and spilling light onto the dead, patchy grass outside. 

“What if it never came back?” He asked quietly, then cleared his throat and looked up at Tony. “You know. My memories? What if I was stuck that way? I didn’t even know who you were, Mr. Stark. How could I not know who you are?” 

Tony’s arm squeezed comfortingly around his shoulders. “I wouldn’t have let you stay that way, kid. Not for long. I’m too self centered to allow anyone to forget about me, especially someone I’ve spent so much time and effort trying to make a good impression on.”

The man finally looked back down at him with a fond smile and Peter was momentarily blinded by the realization of just how much Tony had done for him. How life-changing his presence had been in Peter’s life. Not just that day, not even since meeting him face-to-face for the first time over a year ago. He had been changing his life since Peter was a child. Since the first time he saw the man on television protecting innocent people. Fighting evil, saving the city, saving the world. And he did it all with a quick wit, a charismatic grin, and a confidence that rivaled the midday sun.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said with a smile and a tilt of his head, “you’ve made a _really_ good impression.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote Tony a little less emotionally constipated than I usually do, because honestly I just wanted the freedom to let him go Full Dad. It was so satisfying!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope it was enjoyable! Comments and kudos are loved and treasured! They are the nutella to my toast. 
> 
> Much love to you! (Yes, you) <3

**Author's Note:**

> Part two is close to being done! Comments and kudos are loved and treasured and are the hot water to my cup ramen.
> 
> Much love to you! (Yes, you) <3


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